love, actually
by AGENT Kuma-chan
Summary: Sylvain and Ingrid were idiots. And Felix was the idiot in love with them.


**Title: **love, actually

**A/N:** For snepferret, for a fe3h secret santa! I am so glad you asked for Sylvain/Felix/Ingrid, I just love them as an ot3 too.

**Summary:** _Sylvain and Ingrid were idiots. And Felix was the idiot in love with them._

…

…

…

…

Ingrid bit her lip nervously as she stood in front of the Blaiddyd castle. It was chilly, the late October air creating goosebumps on her exposed skin, of which there was more than usual. She tugged on her shawl uncomfortably, not sure if she wanted to cover her arms and shoulders or her bare back more. "I do not know if this is the best option."

"Nonsense." Dorothea clicked her tongue as she stood next to Ingrid. Dressed in her usual backless dress, she was the very picture of beauty. Ingrid wondered how she bore with the cold. "You're attending a ball, you must look your best."

"No, that much I understand." Ingrid resisted the urge to hug herself. She'd caught every guard on their way here staring at her and she felt exposed. "It's just that I could have worn my usual outfit."

"Your usual outfit?" Dorothea snorted, raising a brow. "It's a lovely dress but it's not fit for a ball. More importantly, you've worn it too many times." She hooked an arm around Dorthea's and gestured at the guard to open the door. "It's terrible, really. A waste."

"What is?" Ingrid allowed her friend to drag her further into the castle. Around them, flowers decorated the walls, ribbons and lace wrapped around columns, and as usual Dimitri's staff knew how to decorate a place.

"You." Dorothea sighed. Their heels clicked against the marble floor as they headed toward the ballroom. "You might have two suitors but neither of them care about your looks. Love should improve your appearance, not diminish it."

"Diminish?" Ingrid blinked, not sure how to respond to that. If anything, it felt more like she'd stagnated on her appearance. "And Sylvain cares."

"Does he?" Dorothea questioned, resting her free hand on her hip. "At least Felix is honest about not caring. Sylvain is happy with you no matter what you wear, which is the same as not caring."

"I…" It was hard to argue that point. She had said the same thing herself to him on many an occasion. Feebly, she nodded her head. "I see your point."

"Of course, because you're the smart one between you three." Dorothea let go of her as they entered the ballroom. She leaned closer, checking Ingrid's face one last time before pulling away. "The makeup looks fine, just make sure not to smudge it."

"Right." Ingrid lifted a hand, hovering over her cheeks as she smiled. "Thank you for this."

"Anytime. Just tell me how they react." Dorothea winked at her before heading toward the performer's platform.

"I won't!" Ingrid retorted, but it was too late, Dorothea was out of earshot already. With a sigh, she glanced around the dancefloor for her two loves. It wasn't too hard to find Sylvain; as usual he was surrounded by a herd of girls. Felix was leaning against a pillar behind him, watching him idly. Taking a deep breath, Ingrid marched forward to them. "Felix. Sylvain."

"Ingrid," Felix acknowledged, barely tilting his head. "You're late."

"You finally made it! And after telling me over and over to be on time!" Sylvain teased as he waved goodbye to his throng. "Getting a little lazy?"

"No, Dorothea just came over and…" Ingrid frowned, not sure if she wanted to explain. There was no way to say _and made me change since I did not look presentable_ and make it sound good.

"Some girl talk, huh?" Taking in her appearance, Sylvain stepped back and his smile grew wider. "Wow, you look really pretty today."

Ingrid pushed a stray lock behind her ear, feeling a little bashful. His eyes were still on her and her cheeks felt warm. "Thanks. Dorothea helped."

"Gorgeous, really. You should let her help more often," Sylvain continued, pecking her on the cheek. He turned to Felix, gesturing for him to come closer. "You can't see it from there. Get out of the shadows,

you grumpy puss."

"I can see enough," Felix snapped back, looking away. His words couldn't hide his reaction—his ears were a bright red. "She looks fine."

"Fine means he can't stop thinking about you," Sylvain stage-whispered conspiratorially.

"Don't put words in my mouth!" Felix growled, still not looking at her.

Ingrid chuckled.

-x-

This was a situation he should have been used to. No, more than just used to, prepared for. Felix had gone through it plenty of times in the past and he was bound to go through it plenty of times in the future and yet somehow, each time his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and his thoughts became a mess. He focused on what he knew—he had to go to the last of the make-shift tent hospitals.

The one that Mercedes was walking out of. His eyes narrowed as he marched up toward her. "Where are they?"

"Oh!" She jumped, surprised, before a relaxed smile crossed her face. "There you are! I was just going to get you."

He glared harder—Felix had always had trouble dealing with her. Maybe it was because she was an air head and none of his usual threatening actions worked on her. "Where. Are. They?" he repeated through gritted teeth.

"They're resting," Mercedes continued, as though he hadn't said anything. "You should let them recover. Well, at least it wasn't too bad, but—"

"Never mind, move." Giving up, Felix pushed her to the side and forced his way into the tent. He had waited as long as he could. They were at war. This had been an important battle. He couldn't leave just because his two idiotic lovers got injured. No, instead he had to quickly, violently destroy the enemy and then chase after them.

They had enough time to rest.

As he entered the tent, he scanned the beds full of injured soldiers, all in various stages of treatment. Knights with broken limbs, knights with lost limbs, a knight with his face covered—

"Felix!" Sylvain greeted cheerfully, giving him a wave from the back of the tent.

A knight who was an utter moron. Felix squared his shoulders as he stalked forward. Ingrid was in the bed next to him, fortunately. A quick appraisal confirmed what he had suspected—Ingrid was injured on her side and Sylvain's leg was wrapped up in bandages.

Nothing life threatening.

A small sigh escaped his lips, his body relaxing. Closer now, he crossed his arms and glared at the pair. "So?"

"So?" Sylvain sat up and glanced at his hands with a frown. "You're visiting us in the hospital and didn't think to bring us flowers? You jerk."

"Sylvain, where is he going to get flowers in a battlefield?" Ingrid reprimanded, struggling to sit up.

She winced and Felix quickly rushed over to her side. He rested a hand on her back, guiding her to a seated position before adjusting her pillow for her to lean on. It wasn't enough. He grabbed Sylvain's pillow and stacked it on top of it.

"Ah, that's better." Ingrid sighed blissfully and gave him a tired smile. "Thanks."

"Can't have you get injured even more." He brushed off her gratitude nonchalantly, stepping back so he could once again cross his arms and glare at them. "So. Explain yourselves."

"Explain what?" Sylvain crossed his arms back.

Turning to Ingrid, usually the voice of annoying reason, Felix raised a brow. "You shouldn't have gotten injured."

"How?" Ingrid rolled her eyes. "There weren't many options to save you from that attack. Either we took the hit or you did."

"We could have had just one person injured instead of both of you," Felix retorted, his fingers digging into his arm.

"Yeah, probably should have planned that better." Sylvain laced his hands behind his head and smiled goofily. "But we just didn't want to see you get hurt. I guess we just acted before we thought."

Every angry argument Felix had disappeared and he rubbed his forehead. Sylvain and Ingrid were idiots.

"Me neither," he muttered.

And he was the idiot who loved them.

-x-

Sylvain sighed happily as the warm, afternoon sun hit the couch. No matter what season, this was the best napping spot, with the sun's rays warming him just enough to make him feel sleepy. Even better, today was a rare day where they didn't have any formal meetings or battles or anything planned. A lazy afternoon where he could just lie there and soak in the sunlight.

Cracking open an eye, he glanced at the other two occupants of the room. Felix was seated on a chair, inspecting the edges of his blade. As usual. Even out of battle, the moron's mind was always on fighting. He rubbed a soft cloth against the sword and cleaned it. Ingrid sat next to the side table on a chaise, her legs folded beneath her as she read document after document. Sylvain didn't have to ask to know what they were—finances, requests for help, all the red tape that came with being the heads of three different households.

Workaholics. He was in love with a pair of workaholics.

He was in love with a pair of workaholics. Sylvain grinned happily at the thought. And they loved him too. And this was a rare time off and they were not going to waste it on napping and paperwork and whatever Felix was doing with the sword now.

"Let's go out," Sylvain announced, springing off the couch. He stretched his arms above him, fighting back a yawn. "It's a nice day."

"Yes," Ingrid hummed in agreement, not really paying attention.

Sylvain sighed. Well, that was a _yes_ at least. Technically she'd agreed. Quickly, he went to her table and swiped the papers away. "Great. We can have a picnic."

"What?" Ingrid jerked her head up, a displeased frown on her face. "Sylvain, stop messing around. I need to finish that."

"Finish what?" He glanced at the topmost paper. A letter to a marquis, thanking them for their aid. A invitation to yet another ball. Payments for the maids. All of them important. And all of them could wait a few hours. "You can do it after, they're not going anywhere. Unlike this afternoon, which is definitely going to disappear."

"Sylvain," Ingrid repeated, holding out her hand.

He set the papers aside onto another table and took her hand, yanking her up close to him. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he winked. "Come on, don't be a spoil sport."

"I wouldn't have to be if you'd just manage your own household," Ingrid replied dryly.

Somehow, his flirting never worked on her. Even Felix would succumb occasionally, but Ingrid was never distracted. Sylvain sighed. "Alright. If I promise to help when we get back?"

Ingrid scrutinized him. "Really?" she asked doubtfully.

"Really."

"Alright then." Ingrid smiled affectionately, pulling away. "Let me just put the papers somewhere safe."

"Great." Sylvain kissed her gently before letting her go. "Felix and I will get the food and horses."

Felix glanced up from his sword. "Don't drag me into this."

"Aww, come on." Sylvain reached out to grab him but retracted quickly when Felix pointed his sword at him. Holding his hands up, he laughed awkwardly. "Come on, your blade's not going to rust if you put it down for a few minutes."

Felix stared at him.

"It'll be fun," he tried again.

Felix's expression didn't change.

Sylvain resisted the urge to scratch his cheek. Or rub his neck. Or do anything than just smile brightly. "It's just one afternoon."

"It's never just one afternoon," Felix corrected but he sheathed his sword anyways. "I swear, the longer I know you, the rustier I get."

"Rustier, huh?" Sylvain resisted the urge to laugh. He'd been around Felix long enough to decode his words, find the real meaning behind his barbs. Love made people soft, even Felix. "We can fight when we get back."

"Of course." Felix stood up, cracking his fingers. "That was never a question."

"No, of course not." Chuckling, he swooped in and kissed Felix before he could react. Ah, there was the reaction he was looking for, flushed cheeks and red ears. Quickly, he danced back and headed toward the kitchens. "I'll get the food, you get the horses."

Felix grunted in response.


End file.
